build neural networks of joy / rushed freeflow

like factories of alchemy transmuting pain into something beautiful or hilarious. They instantly deflect inppropriate and potentially harmful perceptions, they offer the receiving consciousness nuances of laughter, they transmute sorrow into giggling sine waves, they know the birds.

joy is the reason the dance is the reason it’s what these streets were made for

there is an old paragraph I also wrote on this beat maybe I will future squeeze it in once I re-locate (it)

^old words and picture on a joy vibe,

joy who I am, who we are, was thinking of relating a perception that’s been shared with me by a friend and then my eyes landed on “5. Try stating in your own words the theme of the story”. My eyes find the right tarot cards everywhere. Questioning why and what the point is to post this is. Best intention? Heart weirdly sore. Random thoughts of the day: I Ching Party (an actual one). Chocolate Chip Riot (a love story?). Coffee, for light codes. I think I might mostly use this weBlog for myself to log my days and mind and heart because I can’t seem to flow fully on my social media accounts yet. For now – -” – – – ‘ – ‘ Base my work more here, saner that way. Words like feathers falling on ears….

Doubt? Why u here. What r u?

Do not joke about the zombie apocalypse. That was a warning. In my heart a navigation wheel. Striving today to locate high ground and dock. The exact right words and thoughts to anchor onto the Internet. Into shared communication bridges? Into my journal. Onto my wrists. Into my flesh.

Not scared to press publish, it’s that moment when I opened my heart that was hard, that is the real moment of publishing.

This table is neat by the way. Other current events; I feel uncomfortable as somebody is sitting too close to me in the café et ))) when I wrote that they moved. The table has geometric designs I want to understand.

I don’t know what they even are yet but I want to learn every single one of them. It’s the same feeling of wanting to read every single book on the bookshelf. It’s a bit greedy